


yet knowing how way leads on to way

by okaystop



Series: that has made all the difference [2]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Angst, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Kissing, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, So much angst, The Multiverse is Real, Woke Up Not Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaystop/pseuds/okaystop
Summary: The house was quiet in a way that Jon wasn't used to. Not to mention it just felt off, something that Jon wasn't sure how to explain. His instincts had always been pretty good, and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach gave him pause as he stepped past Leo and walked downstairs.He was barely two steps into the kitchen when he recognized what was very wrong. Tommy wasn't here. Not this morning or last night or -Or, simply: Jon wakes up in another reality,notmarried to Tommy.





	yet knowing how way leads on to way

**Author's Note:**

> As should be obvious by now but it always bears repeating, please keep this secret, keep it safe. Don't share with anyone directly or indirectly involved with Crooked Media. Thank you!
> 
> Content note: There is some heavy alcohol use in this story, though it's off-screen and the aftermath is in the story. 
> 
> Title is taken from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken."

The alarm buzzed, waking Jon from a sleep so deep that it was going to take a while for his brain to catch up with his body. He rubbed his palm across his eyes and stretched, arching his back. When he flopped an arm out across the other side of the bed, he found it cold. He turned his cheek against his pillow and blinked, wearily, at the empty side of the bed, frowning. 

Usually, Jon woke up when Tommy had a restless night, up before dawn and checking his email or on the phone with Ben for an early call. He didn't mind, even if Tommy always felt guilty about it, but Jon reminded him - time and again - that that was what he was here for. 'For better or for worse … in insomnia or in narcolepsy.'

He slapped behind him blindly for his cell, plugged into its charger and teetering dangerously at the edge of the nightstand, to check the time. Already after eight, and they had a plane to catch in a few hours. Jon set his phone, facedown, back on the nightstand, and swung himself out of bed. He scratched the side of his neck as he stood, stretching again with an early morning yawn, and went to open the bedroom door.

Leo was waiting there for him, bounding up onto his hind legs and barking with excitement. "Hey buddy," Jon said, bending down to scratch behind his ears. "Where's your sister and Tommy, huh?" he asked, glancing down the hallway for Lucca. "Why didn't you go running with them?"

The house was quiet in a way that Jon wasn't used to. Not to mention it just felt off, something that Jon wasn't sure how to explain. His instincts had always been pretty good, and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach gave him pause as he stepped past Leo and walked downstairs.

He was barely two steps into the kitchen when he recognized what was very wrong. Tommy wasn't here. Not this morning or last night or - Jon reached out for the nearest thing to steady himself - the breakfast bar - his hands gripping it. When he lifted his head and looked across at the fridge, it was devoid of everything they usually had tacked up there - a shared calendar, a running groceries list, a smattering of photos from various trips, trips like Portugal for Tommy's last birthday, their honeymoon. 

On the living room wall, above the TV, hung Jon's Boston skyline photo, the one he'd moved into the guest bedroom once they got their wedding photos back, hung up a collage of self-important and nauseating (Lovett's words, of course) photos of the him and Tommy. 

Jon bent forward, pressed his forehead to the counter and squeezed his eyes shut. What an awful fucking dream, he thought, willing himself to snap out of it, to wake up. But when he opened his eyes again, it was easy, not heavy and sticky like when he'd had to do it in a dream. He'd done it before, lucid dreaming, acknowledging that it was a dream and pulling himself out of it, but this - there were no hazy edges, no weird plants growing out of the floor, no muffling of his own thoughts. 

It occurred to him, terrifyingly, that this wasn't a dream.

He looked around for his phone, but he'd left it upstairs. Leo circled his legs, pawed up against the side of Jon's leg. "Is your name even Leo?" he murmured, then mentally smacking himself for being an idiot. He squatted down and pressed his nose into the dog's curls, cuddled him in close to his chest. Then he stood up and set to his normal Leo (and Lucca) morning routine of watering and feeding. To no one's surprise, Leo reacted as expected and buried his nose in his food dish.

Jon went back upstairs, thinking through all the possible things that could be happening right now, each one more outlandish than another. 

Now that he noticed the first difference, he was noticing them everywhere. There were a half dozen pillows on the bed - Jon liked all the pillows, Tommy didn't understand why they needed any more than one each - and Tommy's running shoes weren't lined up next to Jon's against the wall. The photo in the frame on Jon's nightstand was of him and Leo, not of him, Tommy, Leo, and Lucca. His wedding ring wasn't in the pile with his watch and wallet and keys on the dresser. There was only one Quip in the bathroom. A tangle of phone chargers was in the dresser drawer where Tommy kept his TommyJohns. 

Jon fell back onto the bed sideways, legs dangling off. He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, his palms against his cheeks, and let out a groan of frustration. He didn't even know where to begin.

He completely forgot about looking at his phone until it buzzed, and he sat up and reached for it. 

A text from Lovett: _where are you? we were supposed to leave 5 min ago._ Then a second one popped up. _If you forgot about me again, I swear it's making it into an ad read._

He pinched the bridge of his nose and considered how to respond. Best to keep it brief, he thought, and to not lie. Even though this brought on another onslaught of questions, namely, why wasn't Lovett in Washington? And also, did he _time travel_? Was he back in 2016, doing it "Keepin' It 1600" but - no, Tommy would be here then. That didn't make any more sense than anything else in this whole - thing. Did Tommy not _exist_ here? Wherever here was?

He tapped out a quick response. _Overslept, sorry. Give me 10? Coffee's on me._

_ok. just don't lie and tell tommy im the reason we're late to the founders meeting._

Jon's heart stuttered and he choked on the air he was trying breathe out in relief. One word and the earth had begun to tilt back to its correct axis. He knew he needed to get dressed and find Lovett, but he needed something more concrete than an off-handed text to ground him. He flipped through WhatsApp to find his conversation with Tommy and opened it up.

The last message was from the night before, and it was from Jon to Tommy, so far was unanswered. It simply read, _Hope the date goes well. Good night!_

Jon pushed his phone aside and tried to breathe even if his body didn't want him to. Even if the very idea of Tommy out on a date too him back to years ago, watching Tommy with his past girlfriends, even a past boyfriend, before they got together. Before Jon realized that the feelings he had for Tommy weren't just best friends, bro-type feelings. He didn't need to go back to that, he thought. He didn't think he _could_.

Jon forced himself to leave his phone on the bed as he ducked into the bathroom and got dressed for - work? He didn't even know. He poked through the dirty clothes hamper to get a feel for what he should wear and settled on a pair of well-worn jeans and a t-shirt that said "Repeal and Go F*ck Yourself" on it. While he sat on the edge of the bed tying his white sneakers, he heard the front door open and Leo barked, echoed with another bark.

"Hey, I just let myself in," Lovett called. "So don't come down naked or anything."

Jon shook his head to himself. "I wouldn't dream of upsetting your delicate sensibilities," he called out in response, grateful for a chance at a normal bout of friendly teasing. He scooped up his keys and wallet and jogged down the stairs.

Lovett was bent down next to Leo and Pundit, letting them wrestle over a toy. He looked up at Jon. "You look like shit," he said. "Did you have trouble sleeping?"

"I slept fine," Jon said, because he had. It was just everything that had happened since waking up that made him feel like he could either cry or throw up at any second. He glanced down at his phone to see that he didn't have any notifications about his flight to D.C., which made sense, seeing as Lovett was here, meaning that presumably, Jon wasn't going to D.C. today. He didn't know what he was doing today. He looked at Lovett. "You ever have one of those mornings where everything just feels wrong?"

Lovett herded both dogs toward the door. He snorted. "Yeah, every fucking morning since Donald Trump moved into the White House."

He was already out of the door when Jon stumbled forward, dropping his phone and his keys. Lovett turned back as Jon hitched his shoulder against the doorjamb, eyes screwed shut. "Jon? Are you okay?" 

Lovett's voice sounded so far away and Jon felt unsteady, like maybe there was a rolling earthquake, or he was on a train careening into a ravine. Or the way he felt when he was strapped into his seat on an airplane as it forced its way into the sky. 

"Jon?"

He opened his eyes, the world righting itself around him again. He looked at Lovett then reached down for his keys and phone. He swiped on the phone to check the date. Everything was right, even though everything also felt _wrong_. So so wrong.

"Hey," Lovett sounded concerned now, took an aborted step toward him. 

Jon held up a hand. "I'm fine, sorry. Just - I need coffee," he tried to joke, but it fell flat. "Let's go." He closed and locked the door and hurried past Lovett to get into the car, even though he had no idea where he was driving them to.

 

Getting Starbucks was easy. The one with the drive-through was in the same place as it always was, for Jon. But getting to work meant relying helplessly on Lovett, who Jon thought was doing a remarkable job of not making a big deal out of Jon's behavior. 

Once they were parked, Jon sat with his hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel and didn't look at Lovett.

"We're gonna talk about this," Lovett said. "Obviously you're having some kind of mental break and that's fine. It happens. Honestly, I'm surprised it's taken this long. But can we just finish this inside? I want to sit on a couch with my dog in my lap and they need to get out of the car anyway."

Jon nodded a few times, fixed his face into some semblance of normalcy, maybe even a smile, then got out of the car. "I'm fine, Lovett," he said. "Told you, I just need the coffee." As if it would prove his point, Jon took a long sip of his iced coffee, watching Lovett over the top of the car.

"Uh huh," Lovett said, gathering both dogs and nudging them toward the building's door. "Because lack of coffee made you have no fucking clue where the office is. Right. I've seen you after thirty-six hours of no sleep _and_ drunk off your ass and in both scenarios you'd be able to tell me where we worked."

Jon locked the car and followed him inside, told himself that Lovett thinking he was acting weird or something was wrong with him was one thing, but he couldn't let on to everyone else who he apparently interacted with on a daily basis. He smiled and waved as he followed Lovett through a brightly-lit office, greeting a few people he didn't recognize who called out to him. Lovett turned into an office with three desks and a couch comfortably arranged, and Jon stopped short when he saw Tommy get up, grinning at them.

"You're late. Lovett, you know we have a meeting this morning," he said, though his tone was fond, teasing, like it was a running joke, like they'd had this conversation before.

"Not my fault," Lovett said, dumping his backpack and coffee at one of the desks. "Hey, can we have a minute before the meeting? Just - the three of us?"

It was then he realized there were a few others in the room, and he recognized Tanya from the White House, smiled at her gratefully even if she had no idea why. "Sure, no problem," she said, tucking a laptop against her chest, and she and the other woman ducked out, closing the door behind them.

Jon sank onto the couch and was immediately lap-filled by Lucca, who climbed over Pundit to climb onto Jon's thighs. "Hey Lucca," he said, pressing his nose down against at the top of her head and playing like he wasn't trying in earnest to hear what Lovett was saying in a hushed voice to Tommy. When he looked across the room at them, Tommy's brows were furrowed in concern, his jaw set.

Lucca jumped down and tumbled over to Leo and Pundit, the three of them settling down and finding the spots, Jon surmised, that they probably gravitated to every day.

When Jon looked across at Lovett and Tommy again, they were looking right back at them. Tommy stood, stance wide, arms crossed over his long-sleeved t-shirt, in a way that pulled the fabric distractingly over his biceps. He looked serious, worried. Lovett just looked shifty, and Jon wasn't sure if that was because of him or the venti iced coffee he'd pretty much already finished off. "So, uh -" he started, clearing his throat.

"Is everything okay, Jon?" Tommy asked. He was talking with a tone that was an annoying mix of condescending and concerned.

There were many ways this could go, and Jon tried to consider them all in a span of just a few seconds. He didn't want to wait too long and have Tommy and Lovett even more concerned, but he also didn't want either of them thinking he was going crazy either. The thing was, he didn't have enough information to accurately form an hypothesis about what was going on. Maybe -

"I don't know," he said simply, rubbing his hands against his thighs and trying to relax into the couch. Lovett looked at Tommy, but Tommy didn't look away from Jon. It was disconcerting. It was a look Jon was familiar with, but it lacked the love and affection he had come to see across Tommy's face. The realization landed heavily on Jon, weighed him down. "If I - ask you both some questions, do you promise to answer them without getting all worked up about what they are?"

Lovett laughed, though it was more derisive than amused. He shook his head, cut his arm through the air, the one that was, thankfully, not holding his iced coffee. "I can't make any promises like that, no way," he said.

Tommy swallowed but nodded. "Sure, Jon. I can do that."

Beside him, Lovett actually hissed. "Tommy! What are you doing?" But Tommy didn't answer him and just gave Jon a nod, a slight tip of his chin, a suggestion to go ahead.

"Right," Jon muttered. He scratched his thumb against the inside of his knee. "Who's the President?"

Lovett rolled his eyes and groaned. "Come on Jon, don't be stupid."

But Tommy cut him off. "Donald Trump. What else?"

Jon tried not to viscerally show any kind of reaction to that news, but it was hard. The next question might be even harder, and that was certainly saying something. Still, he had to ask, even if he was about 99.9% sure he already knew the answer, based on what little evidence he had. "Are we married?"

Tommy's eyes widened, his eyebrows raised, and if it weren't for the fact that his pale skin made him blush easily, Jon wouldn't have known that the question affected him at all. He was in full situation room mode. "To each other?"

Lovett looked between the two of them as Jon nodded.

"No." Tommy opened his mouth to continue, but closed it and finally looked away from Jon. He pressed his fingers up against his hairline and turned his body, slightly, away toward the door, away from Jon, from Lovett.

"Is this a bit?" Lovett broke in, loudly. "Are you two doing a bit? Is this like some kind of bit where you both come out to me? Is that what's happening here? You couldn't have pulled it off during an ad read? This isn't actually even very funny."

"Not everything's about you, Lovett," Tommy snapped, tightly, shoulders hunched forward. He straightened and turned back around, looked at Jon again, some kind of mask in place as his cheekbones went taut and his jaw square. He ignored the fact that Lovett winced away from him and looked ready to build up into some kind of mega-rant. In fact, he put a hand out as if it would stop Lovett. Jon was surprised that it did. "Do you want to answer those questions now for us, Jon?" he asked, his tone suddenly calm -t oo calm.

Jon's foot tapped against the floor a few times but he didn't get up. "Hillary Clinton and yes, we are."

Tommy was quiet for a long moment. Shockingly, so was Lovett. They'd been in here longer than the five minutes Lovett had asked Tanya and the other woman for when they arrived. "Was there - did anything happen lately that might suggest to you that you - that this morning, you might have woken up somewhere -" Tommy had trouble finding the right words.

"Is this some kind of multiverse shit?" Lovett blurted out. He had taken two steps backwards and sagged against the wall, sliding into a sitting position, knees bent up to his chest. "Is that what you're asking, Tommy? Is that a thing that's real in this world, in this reality, a thing that _exists_?"

"I guess so," Jon said because Tommy's not saying anything and Lovett's freaking out and Jon - Jon feels like he's going to start crying as the reality of _this_ reality starts to creep under his skin and settle over him like an uncomfortable weighted blanket.

The woman who was not Tanya knocks and sticks her head in. "Uh, hey guys, sorry for interrupting but - we really need to get this meeting done. Or -" She looked around at all three of them. "Do we just need to cancel it?"

Jon was the first to react, shaking his head, managing a smile. "No, we can do it now. I think we're all done here, for now at least."

Lovett squeezed his eyes shut and didn't respond. Tommy's mouth formed a thin, tight line, and he nodded. "Yeah, we're done in here. Just had to decompress from Trump's batshit crazy tweetstorm last night," he said, and that apparently rang true enough to satisfy her because within five minutes, they were in the middle of a meeting and Jon spent the time petting Leo as he sat in his lap, because Jon had nothing to contribute except agreeing when it seemed like he was supposed to.

 

Jon spent the morning trying to figure out his life. Other Jon's life. The life he was currently living in, cataloguing all the little differences while at the same time trying not to think about the big ones. 

He read through the Crooked Media website, in awe of what they've been doing together since 2016. He disappeared into his own Twitter feed, too, not ready to tweet himself yet. He could, at the same time, see himself in his tweets but also see a complete stranger. He glanced at the company Slack channel, tried to understand the staff, his employees, put faces and personalities to names. He tucked his earbuds in and started with the first Pod Save America episode, knowing he'd never get through them all in time. He just needed somewhere to start, and the headlines and hot takes he scrolled past on twitter were too overwhelming. 

Jon had always had some interest in the thread of what-ifs in his life, how his choices got him to where he was now. Never before had it seemed more relevant. 

"He's not going to be able to do the pod today," Lovett was saying across the room, voice hushed but not quiet. "I can do it instead. We need to call Dan."

Jon wanted to say that he could do it, that he wanted to try, but the words wouldn't form, and he wasn't at all confident that he could pull it off. At least not today.

He stood up quickly, tried not to kick Leo, who was asleep at his feet. "I'm going to take the dogs out," he said. "That's - something I can do. Right now." None of the dogs looked particularly excited about the prospect of a walk - Jon suspected this was their usual naptime - but he didn't care. He needed to get out and this was a good excuse. He busied himself with the dogs and their leashes and with not listening to the whispered conversation across the room.

He was almost at the door, three lazy dogs in tow, when a hand came down on his shoulder. Without thinking about it, Jon stopped, leaned back into it, into Tommy's familiar touch, his palm against Jon's shoulder. 

A half-second later, the hand was gone and Jon turned to find Tommy looking at his, cheeks pink. "Sorry," he muttered. "Uh - can I come?"

Jon didn't want to hear Tommy apologize for touching him, but he also didn't want to draw attention to it. He glanced at Lovett, who was very obviously trying not to watch their exchange, fumbling with his phone. To Tommy, he nodded. "Yeah, of course."

Tommy swiped his phone off his desk and stuck it in his pocket. He fell into step beside Jon as they walked outside, the bright sunlight and warm breeze giving the dogs the push they needed to strain on ahead and set the pace of the walk. 

Jon tried not to think about all the things that would be different if he were in his own reality. Things like the fact that Tommy would have reached for Jon's hand as they walked, fingers entwined, shoulders brushing. How they probably would have taken a moment to kiss once outside, the sun an impetus for that as much as it was for the pups' energy. They might have taken the time to talk about something other than their respective jobs, eager for any moment they had when they could be together as themselves and not with everything else crowding in around them.

Instead, Jon walked with one hand on the leads and the other shoved deep into his pocket. He and Tommy were both silent as they turned down a more residential street than where the office was, away from the traffic of the main road. 

"How long have you been married?" Tommy asked, breaking the not-quite-comfortable, but-not-uncomfortable-either silence.

Inside his pocket, Jon rubbed the pad of his thumb against his bare ring finger. "It'll be three years this summer," he said. He kept his focus ahead of him, no matter how much he wanted to turn and look at Tommy. 

"Okay," he said, and Jon could practically hear him thinking, turning things over, that was how well he knew Tommy. Or at least, his Tommy, but it didn't seem like they were all that different, really. Except for the not being Jon's husband part of it, of course. "So then the election wasn't the splinter point."

"The - splinter point?"

Tommy coughed a bit. "Yeah, like what caused the universe to shift into many universes. The act or choice or event that everything is the same, one universe, up until and then splinters off into many different ones."

"Is that - a thing?" Jon asked, finally turning to glance at Tommy. 

He was pale-faced, his lips wet, hair a little mussed in that way it got when he was absently raking his hand through it, tugging at it anxiously. "I mean, I was briefed on it, years ago. I could make some calls, if you wanted. But as far as I know, at least from back then, the possibility of it was proven but its actual existence wasn't."

Jon tried never to think about all the things that kept Tommy awake at night, things that were probably even worse than this.

Tommy rubbed the side of his cheek. "There were a lot of jokes, when we all woke up the day after the election, that the universe split off, or we were living in a simulation, or something went horribly wrong." He almost laughed but it was a sharp sound that he swallowed back up. "But if we - if you and he got married before the election ever happened, then your universe was different than this one for longer." 

"Yeah," Jon said quietly. "I guess so." He picked up the pace, tugging Pundit away from where she was sniffing around the base of a fire hydrant. She whined a little.

"I didn't realize -" Tommy started. Jon tilted his head a little, just to show he was listening, but he didn't turn to Tommy and he didn't slow down.

Jon didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't want to talk to this Tommy - Tommy who wasn't his husband, who wasn't in love with him, who never got to that point with Jon - about this. Not with knowing that their paths in this universe kept them together but not together _enough_.

His heart hurt, and he needed to focus on one thing that wasn't Tommy so he didn't sink to his knees and let out the tears that he could feel prickling, stuck there at the back of his eyes wanting to slip out. Eventually he wouldn't be able to hold it all in, and when that happened, he wanted to be at his home, alone, and not in the middle of the street with this version of Tommy watching him.

"Jon," Tommy was saying. "Hey, stop - slow down." When his hand came down against Jon's elbow, he jerked himself away, almost tripped over one of the leashes. But he did slow down, just a touch. "Sorry," Tommy continued on. "Hey, I - don't know what to do here. How can I help you. I want to help you. Please, Jon."

He stopped, because that tone, Tommy's tone, made its way into Jon's chest and twisted there. The dogs stopped with him. He just couldn't bring himself to look at Tommy. He should have known that Tommy wouldn't accept that, and when he stepped in front of Jon, put his hands on his upper arms, Jon bit back what he thought might be sob. "Please," Tommy said again, his voice hoarse, desperate.

All Jon wanted to do was take him in his arms, have his husband tell him that everything was going to be all right. Instead, Jon held his arms stiffly at his side, the dogs' leads flapping against his leg. He finally looked at Tommy, breath catching at the intense look on his face, mixed with concern and - more, something more like what Jon was used to. "I'm sorry, Tom," he whispered. "I'm just very overwhelmed and out of place and everything I would normally do, I can't do, right now."

Tommy's hold on his arms didn't loosen. In fact, he stepped closer. "What would you normally do?" he asked, looking intently at Jon. His eyes were bright, watery even.

Jon swallowed, swayed forward just a little as though maybe he would let himself fall into Tommy's arms, but one of the dogs - Pundit, maybe - gave a bark and he staggered back. "I would go to my husband," he said after a moment, throat raw. He shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You should go back to work," he said. "I'm not going to be any use there, but you still have work to do. I just need to take a walk."

Then, without waiting for a reply, especially without waiting for Tommy to argue with him or insist on staying, Jon tugged lightly on the leads and kept walking. 

 

He woke up to Leo licking his face and the sound of the front door closing. Groaning, he turned his face into the couch pillow, squashing his nose and letting his head spin without opening his eyes to the room spinning too. He hadn't meant to drink as many beers as he did. He also hadn't meant to switch to straight whiskey when the beer wasn't making him stop thinking. Wasn't turning off his brain. 

He didn't want his brain to work, not once he returned home to an empty house (all right, Leo was there too but it wasn't the _same_ ). Not once he was drowning in a very deep dive of the current politics of this universe and realizing how monumentally fucked everything was. His own slip into another reality notwithstanding.

"Jesus, Jon, did you have to empty your entire alcohol supply?"

 _Tommy_.

He listened to the sounds in his house. The click of a light turning on. Leo whining and the back patio door opening and closing. Tommy moving around the room, into the kitchen. The water in the sink running. A glass set on the counter. Leo's food into his dish.

Jon didn't lift his head from the couch, just swatted an arm over in the general direction of where Tommy's voice came from and pushed Leo off the couch too. He couldn't get up, physically couldn't move his body off this couch, not without immediately regretting it.

A large glass of water nudged against Jon's cheek, and he reached for it blindly and started to drink, all without sitting up or turning over. He drank down half of it before his stomach revolted, turning over in a slushy wave. He groaned and pushed the glass back at Tommy.

After a long moment with Jon swallowing away the dryness in the back of his throat and that horrible post-drinking taste, he coughed a little. His stomach wasn't roiling enough to cause an alarm, though he still didn't want to turn over or sit up. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Just after midnight," Tommy said. "I'm on my way home from Lovett's show. I thought you might - I wanted to check in on you, after you - have you been drinking all day?"

Slowly, Jon turned over, keeping a hand over his eyes. It was fine. Besides the heaviness in his head and a slightly roll in his stomach, he was fine. He must have slept it off enough. Maybe. "Was I supposed to be at Lovett's show?" he asked. "Lovett or Leave It, right?"

"Yeah, that's it. And no - we don't usually go every week. I just needed something to do."

"Yeah," Jon said. He slid his palm off his eyes and blinked into the light, at the ceiling, until he was better adjusted. "You didn't have to come by."

Tommy was quiet for a moment. "Of course I did."

It sounded so simple. And if this were where Jon belonged, it would be that simple. But this wasn't where he belonged, and just having Tommy here, like this -

Jon flung an arm out and opened and closed his hand at Tommy until his took his hand. Feeling both of Tommy's hands wrapped around his, warm and big, fingers sliding together, was almost enough. He turned his cheek to finally look at Tommy. He had pulled a chair up alongside the couch, just within reach. Swallowing, he said, "I'm not doing so good with this."

Tommy let out a hoarse laugh. "I can't even imagine, Jon," he said. He leaned forward, tucked his nose, his mouth, against Jon's knuckles. He looked at Jon over the top of their hands, his throat working in that way that Jon knew he was figuring out what to say next. Jon squeezed his hand encouragingly. "This is hard for me, too," he admitted quietly. "I never thought -"

It took some effort, but Jon sat up, not letting go of Tommy's hand. He swung his feet off the edge of the couch and sat forward so that their joined hands were between them. He knew what Tommy was trying to say, had lived nearly this same conversation years ago. "Neither did I, not until we - I don't know. Not until we just took the leap, I guess," he said. 

"How -?"

Jon rubbed his thumb against the side of Tommy's hand. "I don't know. We just - I had a lot of complicated feelings that I kept buried down pretty deep for a long fucking time. It was just so much easier to say hey, this is Tommy, he's my best friend and I can't imagine not having him in my life, than it was to say, oh, wait, these feelings aren't just friendly, are more like I can't imagine not having him beside me in my life, with me."

Tommy nodded, like everything Jon was saying made perfect sense. To Jon, of course, it did. Abruptly, he pulled his hands back, folded them on his lap. "I've felt that way for a long time, but I never got the sense, not even a hint, that you - that he - might feel the same way." 

"I would be shocked if he didn't," Jon said immediately. 

Tommy shook his head, just enough. "There's too much at stake now," he said, the regret in his tone overtaking anything else. "I can't - we couldn't put Crooked Media at risk, if - it didn't work out."

"Why wouldn't it work out?" Jon asked.

"Why don't a lot of relationships work out, Jon?" he asked. "I don't know. Stupid reasons, usually, but there are enough of them that could happen that it wouldn't be fair to Lovett, to Elijah and Sarah and Tanya and Travis and everyone else." He sat back in the chair, shoulders straight, and looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck, I can't think -" He lowered his face and looked at Jon, cheeks pale, eyes wet, lips parted. "I wish I didn't know that it could be different," he whispered. A confession.

Jon felt like he was going to throw up, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because he'd drank more than he had at one time in a decade. He felt like if he opened his mouth, his heart would come up along with everything else. He pressed his fingers against his lips and sucked in a deep breath, tried to take a moment before he could react without overreacting. "Tom -"

He got up abruptly, the chair wobbling. "I should go. I just wanted to make sure you weren't - I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you are, as much as you can be. So I need -" 

Jon knew he couldn't get up quickly enough to stop him, and he didn't think anything he said would be able to do that either. "Yeah," he said, voice tight. "Thanks for - I'm fine, really. You don't have to worry about me."

Tommy looked pained. "I always worry about you, Jon." Then he was leaving, reaching down to pet Leo on the top of the head, picking up his wallet and keys and phone from where he'd deposited them on the counter, and walking out, the door closing softly behind him.

Jon didn't want to sleep alone in his bed, so he finished the water and tried to sleep right there on the couch.

 

"Okay," Lovett said, loud and brash, interrupting what had been a pretty quiet and very alone morning for Jon. "I have questions. I have a lot of questions." At least in this universe, just like in Jon's, he could count on Lovett to fill up a space and take it over instantaneously. It felt more familiar than most of what Jon had experienced in the last twenty-four hours.

"Of course you do," Jon murmured, fondly, reaching out to help Lovett unpack the take out bags he brought over for lunch. It was a Mexican feast - burritos, tacos, chalupas, chips, guac - there was no way the two of them were going to be able to eat all of it on their own, and Jon said so.

"Shut up, don't judge me. I can put this all away on my own, don't even look at me." But Lovett was smiling into the eye rolls anyway. He was saying something about eating a burrito a day and being perfectly happy with it as he wandered into the kitchen and started opening drawers.

That morning, when Jon woke up still in the wrong reality, he told himself he needed to do something that wasn't what he did the day before. When Lovett texted him to suggest that maybe he take a day off and not come into the office - all right, it wasn't really a suggestion but a directive - Jon almost argued and went in anyway. But he didn't, and instead he took Leo for a walk, went through his other self's phone, old WhatsApp and Slack conversations, rummaged through drawers - maybe he was hoping to find some kind of secret journal or whatever but really all he came up with is way too much Crooked Media merch and a bunch of Leo's old dog toys that needed to be thrown away (which he did).

"So," Jon said, once Lovett had found a bottle opener and had uncapped a lime Jarritos for himself and a Corona for Jon ("I'm still on the clock and I don't need Tommy calling me out for drinking on the job."). They were sitting on the back patio, Southern California sun smog-diluted but warm on their faces, their lunch feast spread out for them. "What are your questions?" 

"Oh boy, I hope you're ready. I wrote them all down." Lovett moved his burrito from one hand to the other and swiped on his phone. "Okay, to begin, this is a big one. How did Hillary Clinton win the election? I mean, obviously we thought she would and every poll and every prediction and everything showed that she was going to and then we all stared slack-jawed at the results pouring in. Honestly, I've never cursed more in my life than on election night 2016."

Jon pulled a face and then took a swig of his beer. "She didn't - well, she won the popular vote, and I read that she won that here too, right?" Lovett nodded and muttered something unrepeatable under his breath so Jon just went on. "Trump technically won the election, by way of the electoral college. It's just that there was enough evidence of Russian collusion that Congress did an immediate investigation, determined that the results were illegitimate, and Hillary was declared the winner."

"Fuck me," Lovett said. "You mean there's a universe out there where those assholes actually did the jobs they were elected to do?" He pressed his hands to his face like he couldn't help himself. "If I thought there was even a tiny chance that that was possible here, I'd be in D.C. banging on doors."

Jon shrugged. "It was a surprise, honestly, but the evidence was undeniable. I googled it and didn't see that it was even uncovered here. Makes me wonder if it exists or that's another difference."

Lovett leaned forward a little. "There are a lot of differences," he said. "I mean, look at you. Gay in one universe and straight in another."

Jon rolled his cheek against the back of his chair and sighed. "Lovett," he said.

"I know, I know." He grumbled and sipped from his bottle of Jarritos. "I'm just saying, that's a huge difference. I don't even know how it's possible that can be a difference. Is there a universe out there where Jon Lovett is straight?" The very idea made both of them pull a face and laugh. 

Jon, flushing, laughed with his whole body at the thought, shaking his head. "Not a chance," he said. "You wouldn't be you."

"I don't even know who you are though," Lovett said, suddenly more serious. He looked at Jon, took a deep breath. "Next question: how long have you known you were gay?"

Jon set his beer down and scratched the back of his neck. He stared at the burrito in his lap for a long moment. "I guess, probably - I would define - I don't know. I never really acted on anything until I got together with Tommy."

"So maybe you're … Tommy-sexual?" Lovett joked.

A smile grew across Jon's face as he thought about it, and then he nodded. "Yeah, definitely that." Immediately he thought of Tommy, his Tommy, the way he looked at Jon first thing in the morning, just waking up, his strong back bare and freckled. The memory of a glance down the hall at the White House, a promise of later. Making Tommy laugh, laughing for Tommy. A lifetime of memories - ones that Jon hoped he'd be able to return to - all at once.

He knew he had a silly look on his face when Lovett's eyes widened. "Wow, you've got it bad."

His cheeks burned. "Yeah, well …" Jon couldn't help but rub his bare ring finger. He took off his wedding ring on hot Southern California nights, but it went right back on in the morning. Honestly, he felt naked without it.

"I can't picture it," Lovett said a moment later, a little snappish. "Sorry." Though he didn't sound it.

Jon sighed heavily. He poked at his burrito, not very hungry even though he knew he needed to eat. He also needed to not wallow. If there was a way to get him back into his own universe, he'd figure it out. And if there wasn't … Jon didn't want to think about that either. He turned and looked back at Lovett, ready to move on from that conversation. "What else do you want to know?"

 

It wasn't until Sunday afternoon when Jon saw Tommy again, idling outside his front door when Jon opened it to take Leo for a jog. He blinked, startled, and didn't reel Leo in when he started barking and jumping up against Tommy's legs. "How long have you been out here?" Jon asked, taking in Tommy's stricken look, the way he angled toward the street, where his car was parked, how he wouldn't look at Jon at first.

"Just a few minutes." 

Jon knew he was lying, but he didn't call him on it. "Do you want to come in?" His jog could wait. He stepped to the side, but Tommy didn't accept the invitation. "O-kay," he said. It was warm out, and Jon was glad he'd changed into running shorts an a t-shirt.

Tommy looked back over his shoulder, down the street. There was a tightness in his neck, he was holding his shoulders back, tense. If Jon could read his mind, he was certain it was full and jumbled, all at once. But Jon could wait. He would wait all night, the rest of his life if he needed to, for Tommy.

"Yeah, okay," he said a moment later, and he moved past Jon and into the house quickly, not looking at him and carefully not brushing past him.

Jon called Leo back inside and closed the door, walked into the living room to where Tommy was standing, looking at a photo, the one Jon had discovered the day before, stared at himself for a while, of all four of them - Tommy, Lovett, Jon, and Dan - interviewing President Obama in the Oval Office. He'd also looked up the podcast episode and wept while listening to it.

"I talked to Ben, a few others, too, about - this. You. What happened."

Jon waited for Tommy to look at him, but he didn't. So after a long moment of slightly uncomfortable silence that broke because Leo barked and leapt up onto the couch to curl up, Jon spoke. "And?"

"No one knows how to put you back. Get you back, I mean. No one knows how to fix this. I still have some feelers out there but it's probably better not to chance this getting too public." Tommy titled his head, glanced at Jon. "I'm sorry."

Jon wasn't really surprised. There had been no rhyme or reason as to why he woke up in the wrong universe in the first place, so why would there be a way to get him back. "It's not your fault," he said. He sank onto the couch and rubbed his face. "I guess -" He closed his eyes. "I need another day or two and then I can - I know I'm not him, but I guess I'll have to be, until this whole thing fixes itself. If it ever does." 

Tommy nodded once, a second time. "When it does," he said.

Jon looked at him. "Yeah," he said, his voice tight.

For a long time, Tommy didn't move. He stood there in the middle of Jon's living room, awkward and ready to run, and if Jon ignored everything else, he could see him as he belonged there, in their house, the one they lived in together. The one where Jon could reach out and touch him, pull him into his lap, could find comfort against his mouth, sliding along his body, burying himself inside him.

"I can't go back to not knowing," Tommy said. 

Jon's attention snapped up to him. "I-"

Tommy moved first, on his knee in front of Jon. "Please, Jon," he said.

When could Jon ever say no to Tommy, especially sounding like that. How could he? He reached out, palm against Tommy's jaw. He let out a sharp breath when Tommy nuzzled into the touch, his fingers encircling Jon's wrist. "Can I-?" Tommy all but whispered.

Jon didn't know if it was a good idea, if he was breaking some rule about the multiverse, some code of honor between his other self and his Tommy and this Tommy and - there were no rules, at least none that he couldn't devise on his own. He didn't know if it was a good idea, but the truth was, he didn't care. He nodded. "Yes," he said. "Yes, of course-"

You don't ever have to ask, Jon wanted to say but instead he leaned forward, his thumb slipping across Tommy's lower lip. He was eager to get his mouth against Tommy's, but he held himself back. This moment was for Tommy. He turned his mouth into Jon's palm, opened it hotly against his skin. Jon held his breath, told himself to be patient.

This first kiss was for Tommy, and Jon knew already that it was going to be different than theirs in his universe. No one ever had a second chance at a first kiss with the same partner, and here was Jon getting to do it. He actually shivered with anticipation.

Jon thumbed his cheekbone, down to his jaw, against his chin. Tommy's eyes slipped closed, and he breathed in deeply. He whispered his name and finally - finally! - Tommy closed the space between them and touched his mouth to Jon's. A moan slipped out, and Jon opened his mouth, encouraged Tommy to not hesitate, that he didn't have to be careful with him. 

No, this kiss was nothing like their first, back in Jon's reality. 

Tommy pressed his knee against the couch, pressed Jon back against the couch as he opened up the kiss. His hand found Jon's leg, palm spread wide, thumb snug against the inside of his thigh. He kissed Jon like he wanted to memorize every stroke, every movement, the feeling of their mouths together. Jon got his hands to Tommy's biceps, held him steady even though he wouldn't mind if he fell forward. Jon loved the feeling of Tommy's body heavy against him. They had time, he thought, and he let Tommy have control.

The kiss slowed, letting Tommy and Jon make out languidly, Tommy halfway into Jon's lap. He liked giving the control to Tommy, but his impatience was hard to ignore, and Jon pressed his hand against Tommy's hip, urging him forward. "Up here," he murmured, not really breaking the kiss at all.

Tommy complied, climbing up onto the couch, his knees on either side of Jon's thighs, his ass in his lap, his chest against Jon's. He groaned, and Jon's hand slid up under the hem of Tommy's t-shirt. He tore his mouth away from Jon's, gasping for air. " _Jon_ ," the want in his voice was hard to ignore.

"I'm right here," he said, spreading his hand against Tommy's back, against the bare skin under his shirt. He opened his mouth against Tommy's cheekbone. His fingers raked into his hair, holding him close. 

Tommy nodded, breathing evenly, his hands shaking as they moved down Jon's arms, over his stomach, up his chest. "I've always wanted -"

Jon pressed his fingertips against the base of Tommy's spine. "I know."

After a minute or two (or an hour, Jon didn't know), Tommy sat back on Jon's thighs, steadying himself with a hand on the back of the couch, and looked at Jon. His eyes were wide, pupils open, and he swallowed. "I know I shouldn't, but I want to be selfish tonight," he said quietly. "I know you're not mine, but if this is my only chance…"

Jon shifted under him, shaking his head. "It won't be. He's going to come back, and you're going to tell him how you feel and it'll be - it'll be fucking incredible." He smiled, cheeks warm. 

"What if he isn't - like you?"

Jon couldn't promise that his other self would be like he was. It hadn't happened in this reality, for whatever reason, for many reasons, for inexplicable reasons, and yet the big one might be that Jon wasn't interested. But he had a feeling, call it a premonition or call it a gut feeling - call it whatever you want - that Jon was. 

He kissed Tommy again, gently, lovingly. "You have to try," he said. "You have to ask. You have to -"

"I will," Tommy said, urgently, and then they were kissing again, harder this time, touching, feeling, tasting. Jon let Tommy have this kiss, falling into it, reminded of his first kiss with Tommy, years ago. He wanted this kiss to be even better than it was back then, and Jon had the advantage, knowing what Tommy liked, and to his delight, that was cross-dimensional.

Jon broke the kiss, licking his lips. "Until you have that chance," he said, going back in again, eager to give Tommy anything - everything - that he wanted. "I'm yours."


End file.
